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JENNIFER'S BIRTH By Jennifer Astley I had been dressing, in private for years, ever since my childhood. However, I had grown up large and muscular, although not tall, and with plenty of body hair. I always felt embarrassed about my appearance en femme as I always just looked like a bloke in an ill-fitting frock. But I kept a few pieces of clothing from when the urge took me and I just used dressing as a fantasy. My work and sports meant that I was obliged to maintain a masculine presence and so my alter ego was mostly suppressed. Also, I tried not to feed my urge to dress up as it made me feel guilty. I never told anyone, least of all my girlfriends. Only once did I have a problem when a girl I had been seeing for a few months asked why I made love to her with her legs shut and mine open and quizzed me as to my true feelings. I must admit, she came pretty close to discovering so I dumped her shortly after with an excuse about moving away. Then the bombshell dropped. I had felt a bit rough for a while and I went to my doctor to complain about a pain in my lower back. Tests were performed and they showed up a large malignant tumour nestling at the base of my spine. I underwent chemotherapy and radiotherapy to try and blitz the growth but with little effect. Over 6 months I found myself shrivelling from a strapping young man into a feeble shadow. I had no appetite, was constantly sick and started to lose hair all over my body. My skin turned to the thickness of paper and my eyes sank into my head. Then the doctors decided to operate in a last ditch attempt to save my life and carefully brought the tumour out. I lay in hospital shattered. The operation was successful, there were no other signs of secondary growth and I could return to normal. But nothing was normal now. I had been close to death and was left frail and helpless, like an old man. My family and friends were magnificent and rallied around me making sure that I was going to pull out of this mentally and physically intact. My employers had been great and made sure that I had as much time as I needed to fight for my health. But now I needed to recuperate, to build myself up again. My boss, Gerald, was an excellent man who had been a tower of strength over those last few difficult months. I was not, therefore, surprised when he offered me his holiday house down on the coast as a place to go and recharge my batteries. At the time, he was going through a tough time himself. His wife had left him and taken the kids back to her parents' home in Turkey Their house was going to be sold. He had no desire to go down there anymore as it had so many memories. He was happy for me to house-sit for the Spring and Summer and show the house to prospective purchasers. I wasn't able to leap at the chance, but I gratefully accepted. My neighbours, Tom and Sarah, very kindly drove me down from London to Cornwall as I was too crooked to go by myself on the train. I knew the house was remote but I had no idea how far from anything I was going to be. But I needed peace and quiet and I was sure going to get it. Tom and Sarah stayed overnight and did a huge shop for me so that I had plenty of provisions until I could get about myself. There was an old car in the garage, but I was in no shape to drive at that time and so I was going to be pretty isolated. The house was a beautiful old farmhouse set up, high on the cliffs, overlooking a sandy shore. The village was about 2 miles away along the cliff-top path, or 3 miles by road. There was a stunning conservatory and wonderful gardens, with a sauna in a pine hut next to a swimming pool. Gerald used contractors to tend the garden and maintain the pool so that the house looked its best in readiness for the sale. He'd left all his furniture and effects in the house so that it would feel like a home. Sadly, that included 2 bedrooms of children's clothes, computer games and toys. As I got healthier, the idea was that I would help by clearing the house of unwanted stuff and prepare the rest for packing up. The house was well known as a place where Gerald and his wife, Ayun, would entertain lavishly in the glitzy Cornish holiday set. So no expense had been spared on the house. They used to come down so regularly that they kept it as a second home. I decided that the nicest bedroom for me was the master bedroom that Gerald and his wife had enjoyed. It had a large en suite bathroom and a lovely view south over the garden and the sea. There was no space in the wardrobes for my clothes, so I got Tom to move all of Gerald's gear into one of the spare rooms and put my clobber in its place. There was a lot of his wife's apparel too. I had met her at office functions and she was always smartly turned out in the latest designer fashions. She was handsome, rather than pretty, with a strong face and statuesque frame. Like everything else in the house, her side of the wardrobe had an expensive feel. Gerald had offered me use of their cleaner as an informal house-keeper, but I turned him down and suggested that it would be good therapy for me to try and manage as much as I could on my own. But after a 6 month course of treatment followed by a month in hospital and I was a wreck. I left hospital weighing just 125 pounds having fallen from my usual 180. I hardly recognised myself when I looked in the mirror. The pale and crumpled weakling who looked back was a pathetic sight. For a week I just struggled out of bed twice a day to force some soup down me, scarcely able to keep it down. The weather was poor and so I had no incentive to stagger into the garden. I was bored too. I had been fighting for my life for half a year and was used to having people around me like doctors, nurses, family and friends. Now there was no one. That's when I get the urge to dress, when I am bored. I suppose that's why I led such a busy life, as a way of distracting myself away from my alter ego. Now I was lying in bed and thinking about my fantasy persona. I always imagined myself to be "Jennifer", an independent and assertive heterosexual woman, who dressed glamorously and loved to be seen on the arm of a handsome hunk at the theatre or the opera. But my only outfits had been cheap and showy mail order creations. Now I had access to a woman's daily wardrobe, to her make-up, accessories, hairdryers, you name it and it was at my disposal. I had the means and the time to indulge myself in a way that had simply not been possible before. As I thought more and more about the urge it became irresistible and the excitement unbearable. So, one morning, I struggled out of bed and ran a bath, adding some perfumed oil to the water. I found a silk robe and put it on. The feeling was sensational as I wrapped it around me and felt the material brush over my scrawny body. By the bath I found a lady's razor, which I used to shave as much of my body that I could reach. Most of my hair had fallen out with the drugs and radiotherapy. What was left on my head had been cropped so the clumps that came away in my hand would not be obvious. They'd promised that my hair would return in time. I'm very fair so my eyebrows and beard have never really noticed. I relaxed in the bath for ages, planning what I should wear for the day. I got out I towelled myself dry and went into the bedroom. I took a pair of black panties and matching bra from a drawer and put them on. The panties were nice and tight across my tummy and bum and cut a lovely line up at the top of my thighs and over my narrow hips. The bra was a "c" cup and I padded it out with a few pairs of tights. It did not look too bad but it had no weight. I pulled on a cropped T-shirt and stood back to admire myself. My figure looked fantastic but I was so pale and drawn and virtually bald that it depressed me and I quickly took off the underwear feeling guilty again. I got on with the day trying to busy myself with making some food but I knew I had awoken Jennifer and that she would not go away. I knew I had to get some colour in my face and do something about my hair. So I logged onto the internet and started surfing around for mail order sites. I knew my way around pretty well as I had used transformation sites to accumulate my few odd bits and pieces. I found a site and decided to select a few items to be sent through the post. I ordered some mastectomy breast forms, a make-up video, some hormone cream, beard growth retardant, and a wig, in the shape of a neat blond bob. They would take about a week to arrive if I paid extra for a special delivery. It was so expensive anyway I thought that I might as well hang the expense and get on with it. In the meantime, I decided that I ought to persevere with a bit of dressing to try and get used to the clothes I found in the bedroom. Because I looked so ghastly, I decided to stick to fairly androgynous clothes for lounging around. But I slept in a nightie and wore panties. Luckily I could just about squeeze into Ayun's smart shoes, her pumps and trainers were less difficult. I experimented with varnishing my nails and tried odd bits of jewellery. There were no expensive items and, disappointingly, no clasp-on earrings. I wore perfume, lipstick and had a go at shaping my eyebrows. I also concentrated on being as feminine as possible at all times. I thought hard about my body movements and tried to predict how a woman would do anything before I tried it. And as I was experimenting I realised that my vigour was returning. Now it seemed I had a real purpose. At the same time the sun had come out and the weather was warming nicely. I found a sun-trap in the garden, out of the wind, and sunbathed on a lounger reading books. There was quite a supply of trashy romances that I devoured, always trying to put myself in the shoes of the heroine. I was beginning to tan nicely and my face was beginning to look less gaunt as I started to take the benefit of food once again. But what gave me the greatest pleasure was to examine myself in the mirror, whenever I came into the house, to see where the tan lines began and ended from the bikini that I always wore. I wore the bottoms and kept the top over my chest but not on my back or shoulders. That appearance did more than anything to turn me on and, for the first time in a long time, I felt aroused. All in all I was loving what I was doing. Each morning I hoped and prayed that my packages would arrive and that I could start really looking like the woman of my dreams. Finally, the mail van pulled up and a man called at the door with my delivery. I was only wearing a blue jogging suit and no make-up or nail polish when I greeted him and signed his book. I tore open the parcel and marvelled at my new breasts and wig. I took no time in trying them on. The breasts were amazing, they felt so warm and supple and the weight of them gave real shape to the bra. I put on a blouse and couldn't believe how my figure was transformed. I brushed the wig out and tried it on. The style was fine but it did look like a wig. It would do for the time being - it was definitely an improvement. From that moment on it was like waking out of a dream. As the weeks passed I grew stronger. I had decided to work hard to keep the weight off and so I ate healthily but miserly. Muscle was growing back in my arms and legs but it was slender and womanly. My body was a lovely brown and my legs looked long and shapely. The hair on my head was growing back and I had to flatten it before putting on the wig. I had been rubbing hormone cream into my nipples and they were becoming a little more sensitive. I thought they had grown too, but I may have imagined that. My make-up skills were improving and the time taken to apply it and remove it was reducing. My nails were growing and I was taking care to keep them in good shape. I had learned how to tuck my penis away in my knickers out of sight so that there was no bulge. I now felt so confident that I had ventured a few hundred metres or so down the lane, and then along the coastal path each day. Cars and walkers had passed me and no-one seemed to bat an eyelid. One afternoon a couple of boys came past the garden gate and asked if I wanted any odd-jobs doing. They seemed to have accepted me as a woman completely. I knew when the gardeners and the pool maintenance service came I was careful to conceal myself or appear briefly as my old self. Then one afternoon disaster nearly struck. The agents, who usually called to say that they were bringing prospective purchasers around, turned up unannounced as I was sitting in the garden by the pool. I was wearing just the bikini and had no make-up on. The wig was in the house. The agent, who was a young lad in his late teens that I had not seen before, was with an elderly couple. We were all shocked and jumped out of our skins when they came across me. They apologised profusely and looked away embarrassed as I fled into the house. I panicked and burst into tears. They had seen me in a bikini. I dashed upstairs, tore the bikini off, the breast forms spilling onto the floor, and grabbed one of my sweatshirts and some jeans. Then I stopped myself. That was ridiculous. In order to prevent further embarrassment I needed to put on Jennifer's clothes and front it out. So I found a nice loose summer dress, and a pair of sandals. I quickly daubed some make-up on and looked at the wig. When I looked back in the mirror I saw that I had enough hair that, if I messed it up with some styling gel would look like a trendy crop, and slightly dikey. Just as I was coming back downstairs the lad was in the kitchen. "Excuse me," he enquired. "These people would like to ask you a few questions about the house, is that OK?" "Of course," I replied, croaking in a scratchy voice that I hoped would sound feminine. And then the elderly couple grilled me for about 15 minutes with all sorts of requests for information. My heart was in my mouth. Then, at the end they thanked me and left. It was as easy as that. They did not appear to have noticed anything. By now I was beginning to ask myself some serious questions. I had spent a month living as a woman and was enjoying it. However, I was troubled. I still felt like a guy in drag. I had to shave closely, use lots of foundation, I had no ear-rings and my hips were straight. I had boobs but they were false. I was thinking as a woman, dreaming as a woman. I started looking out for guys on the TV and imagining kissing them or receiving them in my bed. I liked to play with myself and had started to guess what it would be like to be penetrated. I experimented with candles, carrots anything that might replicate the feel of a man. Each time I slid something inside me I felt so sexy and alive, and each time it became a little easier to get past the initial stinging pain. I knew I had one chance only of seeing if this new life was really for me and whether I could live like this forever or for just this peculiar phase of my existence. I had been searching the Internet for information on cross-dressing and kept coming up with transsexualism and gender dysphoria. I was becoming an expert on my own psychology and was developing an interest in hormones and plastic surgery. I had just been through hell in hospitals and here I was seeking out new ways to take myself back there. But I had to find out for myself. By now I was venturing out in the car to towns several miles away. I was parking in public places and going into shops, walking along high streets and trying to see if people noticed me. No one seemed to bat an eyelid. I even thought I was getting some admiring glances, but this may have been wishful thinking. I found a hairdresser and asked her to do something with my hair. She asked who had cut it last and I told her, truthfully about the chemotherapy and she was very sympathetic. She worked a miracle and produced a spiky mop that fell a little over my face and looked a million dollars. The same afternoon, I plucked up the courage to get my ears pierced, and then my tummy button. Now I had made some permanent changes to my appearance that suggested I had got into this so deeply that I was in danger of not knowing when to turn back. That evening I stood in front of the bathroom mirror having to pinch myself to check whether this was for real. I was wearing a crop top, over my bra and a pair of hipsters with my navel pierced. My blond hair was contrasting with my bronzed face. Here I was, feeling like an extremely attractive young woman with a look to die for. I was in heaven. The next day I greeted the next lot of prospective purchasers at the front door and showed them around myself. I chatted freely about the house. I'd been watching women on the television and noting how they spoke. Instead of trying to speak in a high-pitched squeak, like Widow Twanky, I'd gone for a deep throaty style that sounded more vampish than mannish. It did the trick. A few miles away, in the nearest market town, there was a beauty salon. As I was now mobile I decided to get my nails done properly and to have my legs and chest waxed. The girls were lovely and I decided to be truthful and tell them I was a tranny. They were totally unfazed. We discussed the problem of unwanted body hair and they showed me a new laser they had acquired to replace an electrolysis machine and which would permanently remove my unwanted body hair. The course was fiendishly expensive but I was so frustrated by having to shave my face and chest that I decided it had to be worth it. I started there and then. The hair retardant seemed to be having no real effect and I was in constant fear of being found out because I hadn't had time to shave. Then I made a huge decision. I had toyed with the idea of buying hormones over the net and trying them out, but that was madness. I had just been seriously ill and my body had been through the mill. The last thing it needed was me pouring something into it without knowing the effect. So I booked to see a specialist consultant in gender reassignment who had a clinic in Bristol. I took the train, dressed as Jennifer and decided that I would make inquiries about starting the ball rolling towards a sex change. I reasoned that if it was a long process I should start the process now because I could always give it up if it was not for me. I had the perfect opportunity to make a go of it. I was unbelievably nervous but found the staff to be brilliant. I explained what had happened to me and how I came to be here. I was tested for everything and quizzed endlessly about my motivations. I lied shamelessly about having harboured this desire to change my sex since childhood and that I was determined to see it through. I was told that I would be put on a list for surgery and referral to a psychiatrist. The results of the blood tests would be back in a few days and an endocrinologist would be asked for his opinion given my recent treatment. I left frustrated as I had hoped to get my hands on some hormones that day. However, we did discuss some plastic surgery. I was told that the surgeon could alter my jawbone, forehead, nose, trachea, and give me implant breasts - that could be done whenever I wanted. This was too much just then so I said I would like to think that over. The consultant explained that he was very busy and that it might be sensible to book a provisional date that could be moved if necessary. I booked an appointment for 2 months ahead. A couple of days later the consultant's secretary rang and told me that I had been cleared for hormone treatment and I could start as soon as a prescription was posted to me. I was given oral oestrogen and a testosterone inhibitor. With trepidation I started the course of tablets. For a few days I felt very strange. I was quite dizzy and nauseous with hot flushes. Then I seemed to be at peace with myself, much calmer and passive but emotional too. After a couple of weeks I noticed that my libido had dropped and I could scarcely get an erection unless I was turned on by one of the romantic fiction books. I penetrated myself daily, imagining being seduced by a tall good-looking man. I no longer looked at girls and fancied them but appreciated them for their looks. I now looked at guys and wondered what they looked like with their shirts off. It was strange and confusing period. After about 6 weeks of hormones, I noticed a slight swelling on my chest and a little fat on my hips. My mother and sister were very well endowed with breasts and so I had a reasonable expectation that I might get some good natural growth. My waist had shrunk an inch and my skin and hair were softer and finer. The hair on my body and face were not growing back and so I needed less and less make-up. I was beginning to feel like the real thing. So far, I had done all this by myself. I had put off any of my friends or family visiting, blaming tiredness but reassuring them that I was OK over the telephone. I knew that I would have to face the music but I did not want to ruin the world I had created around me. Then the decision was made for me. Gerald had rung to announce that he had to come down the next day to attend a party thrown by an old friend. I was horrified but managed to tell him there and then that he would notice a new me and to be prepared for a shock. "Is that good news?" he asked. "I think so, and I hope you do too," I replied. I had no idea how he would take seeing me dressed up in his ex- wife's clothes. It was taking his hospitality further than most guests would dare. I decided it would be too much to meet him at the house, in case he reacted badly and so it was best to confront him in public. I told him I would meet him at the station. I put on a gorgeous lilac blue sleeveless summer dress and a throw over my shoulders. I wore a pair of black high-heeled shoes and went via the hairdresser to get my hair set. I asked the hairdresser for her opinion on ear-rings and she suggested a pair of diamond studs. I wore my sunglasses in my hair and took extra care over my make-up. I wasn't sure what I was trying to achieve. I suppose I was trying to impress Gerald to show him that I hadn't been wasting his or my time. I thought I looked stunning and so did a group of workmen who wolf-whistled me when I got out of the car at the station. That felt good but I was shaking with fear as I saw him get off the train. He looked up and down the platform for me and I waited until most of the passengers had gone before approaching him. In a quivery voice I said, "Hi, Gerald, it is me!" He swivelled around with a look of total misbelief on his face. "Dear God!" he exclaimed. "What have you done?" Oh no, he looked angry and this was my worst fear. "I'm sorry Gerald, but I've rediscovered my love for women's clothes down here. You're angry, I've done a terrible thing." I felt a lump in my throat and tears well up in my eyes. "No, not at all. I'm just shocked. I wasn't expecting .......... You look great. No, better than that, you look fabulous." I couldn't respond. I didn't know if he was being sincere. I just turned and walked back towards the car, I just had to get out of there and get back into my own clothes and stop behaving like an idiot, this was all too terrible. "Where are you going?" Gerald called after me. "Home, to yours and then back to London, this is madness." My head was spinning. "Why?" asked Gerald and when I didn't reply he added. "I mean it, you look amazing. I'm bowled over, really I am." He could see I was in no fit state to drive so he took the keys from me and we drove back in silence. When we got into the house, Gerald asked, "Are those Ayun's clothes?" "Yes," I replied, "I should have asked you first." "That might have sounded a bit strange if you had done!" said Gerald and then laughed, "Please have them, all of them, your need is greater than mine!" Then Gerald took me into the conservatory, by the hand and stood me in the sunlight. He looked me up and down. "No, I still can't believe it. You look amazing. I can hardly believe this is the same person who I last saw lying in hospital. It suits you, it really suits you." I thanked him and was now starting to believe in myself again. So I explained all that had happened and how I had made these changes, some permanent and some temporary and how I was finding an inner well being I'd never known before. I also told Gerald that I had to make a decision over plastic surgery that was due to take place in a week's time. He was stunned at this news. I think I knew in my heart of hearts that I really wanted to continue this process to its logical conclusion and having my face altered was a good starting point. Gerald was typically, calm and reassuring. He played devil's advocate going over the pros and cons. But he could see I was determined so he shrugged and suggested I confirm the appointment. That afternoon we chatted away about all sorts of news each of us needed to catch up on by the pool. Then Gerald announced he was going for a swim and went to the house for his swimming trunks. When he came out I noticed that I was eyeing him up with a desire for him. I was ashamed of myself and became so upset that I disappeared into the house for a good cry. That evening I cooked a nice dinner for the two of us and, at about 10pm, I went off to bed. Without thinking I had presumed I would be in the master bedroom so when Gerald came upstairs some minutes later, I was embarrassed when he entered the bedroom to find me in a short baby doll nightdress taking off my make-up. He was embarrassed too and quickly left saying he would take up one of the spare rooms. In the morning, I made Gerald breakfast before he went off to meet a friend for a round of golf. Gerald was also going to a party that evening by himself and I could tell he was miserable about being without Ayun. Boldly, I offered to go with him but he said that wasn't a good idea and left for his match. However, when he returned about 5 hours later he asked if I would mind being his guest and I said I would be delighted. He told me that he only intended to be there for a little while out of duty and we could leave after an hour or so. I was thrilled at the prospect of going and terrified too. "What made you change your mind?" I asked. "It turned me on to think of it!" Gerald replied bluntly and went upstairs to change. I'd not expected or wanted that answer. I felt like he was trying to pass me off as an illusion and would get a buzz from the deception. But I decided to go for my own reasons and because I was now so bold in my appearance that I wanted a proper opportunity to show off. I found an elegant black velvet evening gown, slit to the thigh and a pearl choker. I wore a strapless bra and matching briefs with my penis tucked right up my backside and held there with a piece of medical tape in case of emergencies. I wore dangling tear-drop pearl ear-rings, scarlet red lipstick and nail varnish. It was a warm evening so there was no need for stocking or tights. "You look ravishing!" exclaimed Gerald when I met him at the top of the stairs in his white dinner jacket. A car arrived and took us to the party, about 10 miles away. Gerald was going to introduce me as an old colleague, not as his partner, which I thought was an acceptable solution to my presence. The party was lavish and the champagne flowed. After 2 hours of mingling it seemed that Gerald had forgotten all about leaving. I hadn't drunk much but I was getting tipsy as my tolerance for alcohol had disappeared. Gerald found me chatting to a delicious young farmer and took me outside into the garden. "How's it going?" he asked. "Fine, I'm loving it and you?" I replied. "Yes, it's great. Are you comfortable with this still?" "Perfectly. Why, has anyone commented?" I was slightly challenging. "No, not at all. But it can't be easy." Gerald was on the defensive. "What, pretending to be woman? Is that what you mean?" I reacted sharply. "Yes. I suppose I do." Gerald was used to being in control and did not want to be confronted. "I am not pretending anymore, Gerald. I was pretending before, this is easy, this is the real me, all woman!" I was raising my voice. "Are you drunk?" he asked. "No, I'm not! I'm annoyed with you, there's quite a difference." "What's brought this on?" he asked. "I'm not a drag queen here to give you a cheap thrill because no-one knows my little secret. I'm here as Jennifer!" I was almost shouting at him. "I'm not turned on by that, I'm turned on by you, Jennifer! I promise." He looked upset to be having this conversation with me. "I'm sorry but I don't want you to look at me and see a guy in a frock. I want you to see Jennifer, I want you to fancy Jennifer. Do you understand?" "I think so and I think I'm attracted to you, as a woman and I know I'm very confused at the moment." Of course he was confused, he was a red-blooded man and I was his employee, once a man now a girl, dressed in his ex- wife's clothes and arguing with him over whether or not I should be treated as a woman, an object of his desire. "Oh God, Gerald, so am I!" and suddenly the booze really started talking "and I want you to put your cock in my mouth!" "What?" he spluttered. "I want to suck your cock. I want to do it right here and now." And I leant forward and kissed him on the lips and squeezed his groin lightly. I could feel he was already quite hard. I had never felt a man before and I was surprised at how large he felt. He returned the kiss and pressed himself into me. He said nothing. I didn't know what else to do, so I pulled him towards the back of the garden into the dark shadows and started to French kiss him. We were both passionate and I felt him hard against my tummy straining. I put my hand into his fly and worked him free. He felt warm and the skin was silky smooth at the end. I pulled back his foreskin and felt the smooth shiny surface of his head which I stroked gently with my fingers He grew in my hand and I felt his breath get heavier as our mouths locked together and our tongues entwined. I pulled away and knelt down to take Gerald in my mouth. I just couldn't believe how large he was and I didn't know if I could get all of him into my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and then swirled it around so that it was nice and wet. Then I pursed my lips around him and pushed down on him until I felt the length of the shaft engage with the back of my throat. I moved slowly up and down the length and felt Gerald's legs shaking as I started to work on him. I loved the feeling of having him in my mouth and knowing what it was doing to him. Gerald was holding and stroking my head and neck in encouragement. Just as I was getting up a steady rhythm Gerald suddenly clenched his buttocks pressed himself into my face so I felt him go down my throat and erupt delivering several huge and hot squirts into my mouth. I was taken completely by surprise and had no choice but to gulp it all down. It reminded me a bit of eating an oyster. Gerald remained tense for a second and then his whole body relaxed. I pulled away and saw the last drips fall off from his swollen head and land on the front of my dress between my breasts. As Gerald adjusted himself I poured a little champagne onto the end of my hankie and rubbed the drops away from the velvet hoping they wouldn't stain. "My goodness," said Gerald, "I was not expecting that!" "Nor was I!" I replied in mock anger. "Thank you, that was lovely," Gerald said as he kissed me powerfully on the lips. "Not at all," I replied. "I loved it." "You're an expert!" "Beginner's luck", I responded ironically. "We'd better get back to the party, everyone will start talking about us!" said Gerald as he took my hand to escort me back to the house. "You go," I said, "I need to hang on for a minute." "Why?" he asked. "Because I have a large wet patch on the bust of my dress and an even larger bulge in my knickers!" I replied. "Oh my God, I'm sorry." Said Gerald tenderly, "Shall I stay with you?" "No that's fine, run along I'll be there in a minute." And I pushed him towards the house. He pecked me on the cheek and scuttled furtively back to the party. I rearranged myself with some difficulty as I was seriously turned on and it would not go away. From the light thrown by the house I was able to redo my make-up, most of the lipstick was now somewhere else. I waited a couple of minutes and then went back to the throng. We left the party at about midnight and I was both tired and a little squiffy. I snuggled up to Gerald in the back of the car and held him tightly to me. When we got back to the house, Gerald put the kettle on and started to make a cup of tea. I felt as if he had something major on his mind. "Jennifer, I'm even more confused now! I loved the party tonight and our time in the garden but I don't know what that means." He looked pensive. "What do you mean?" I asked nervously. "The obvious next step would be for us to sleep together, but I need time to get my head around all this. I'm not sure what I want." He was very matter-of-fact. "I see, I suppose I feel the same," I lied. "Don't worry, we can discuss this in the morning." He didn't reply and I left the kitchen feeling utterly deflated. I had my first sexual experience as a woman and I was burning with expectation but my lover was pulling back. I went upstairs and got into bed. I tried to sleep but it was hopeless, my mind was racing with all sorts of crazy thoughts. I also knew that Gerald had not come upstairs. After about an hour I got up, put a robe on and went downstairs. Gerald was sitting on the sofa flicking through the channels on the television. I sat on a chair but Gerald ushered me to sit next to him. "Tell me what I can expect," he asked. "From what?" I enquired. "If we slept together, what would it be like for us, and where will it all end up?" he put his arm around me and pulled me to him. "I don't know, I'm as uncertain as you." I replied. "I want to take you to bed and make love but I've never done it as a woman and I don't know what will happen." "It was knowing that you got an erection this evening in the garden. That freaked me out." He said. "I know, it upset me too. I didn't feel it happen." "I mean, are you going to want me to take you in my mouth or put it in me?" "No, I don't think so. I just wish it wasn't there, really I do, but it is and it reacts to you and I can't stop it." "You see, I really don't think I could handle it if you came or something. That would be too weird! And I've never made love, you know, in the backside." "I understand. What do you want to do?" "Right now, I want to go to bed with you, pyjamas and nighties and a peck on the cheek. Maybe it'll all seem easier in the morning." "I'd like that too." So we went up to bed and Gerald changed in the bathroom as I slipped the robe off and crawled back into bed. Gerald came to bed and we hugged each other and kissed on the lips, lingeringly, before he turned me away from him and cuddled my back. I was asleep in minutes, with a contented smile on my face. In the morning I got up and left Gerald in bed. I decided that I had to snare this wonderful man and do everything I could to make him mine. The speed with which we had taken matters was unbelievable and I wanted everything to be just right. If there was a risk of messing things up by rushing them then I knew I had to take care as I stood to lose everything. We spent a lovely relaxed day together before Gerald had to catch the train to London for business as usual. He kissed me passionately, and promised that he would ring me every day as I built up towards the day of my facial operation and breast implants. I was quite lonely when he left but kept myself busy around the house. I had 5 days to prepare myself to go under the knife. The time dragged, as I became more and more anxious. The hardest task was writing to my parents the most difficult letter of my life. I enclosed some photos of me dressed for the party that had been taken by the host and asked them for their forgiveness and understanding. When I arrived at the hospital in Bristol I was shown to a comfortable private room. In the corner was a huge bunch of balloons sent by Gerald and a short message; "Inspiration for the surgeon! Love, G." The nurses asked me who'd sent them and I said, optimistically, that "G" was my boyfriend. My God, had I known what I was letting myself in for I expect I would never have agreed to being chiselled, chopped and pumped to achieve my yearned for look. I awoke with the most unbelievable pain in my chest and head. My throat was so dry and I was swathed in bandages. I was extremely emotional and lonely. The nurses were great but I needed my friends and family around me. I had horrendous bruises around my face, neck and chest that were blue and yellow. The swellings on my front looked ridiculous and I felt I had made a huge mistake. It took a great deal of reassurance to persuade me that everything would be fine. The surgeon had declared himself satisfied but I just looked like a bloated frog. After a week I was allowed home. The swelling and pain had subsided but the shape of the improvements was not obvious. I wore a large baggy hat and sunglasses on the train to cover my face. Every time I moved, it felt like two lead weights on my chest were straining at every nerve. I'd hoped to wear a normal bra but had to accept a horrid surgical support bra to minimise the pain. When I got home I found that flowers had been delivered and were waiting on the porch. Gerald had been so thoughtful and had done his best to keep my sprits up over the week of agony. It was mid-Summer and the weather was fine. I decided that sun and fresh air were my best tonics and spent 3 weeks taking the summer air by the pool. My forehead was now looking quite normal and my hairline was pulled forward a little. My nose had been broken into a cute little retrouss? and my jaw set back a little. My Adam's apple was reduced and the whole effect was pleasingly feminine. I scarcely needed to shave and could look forward to only a few more trips to the beauty salon. I'd asked for a modest bust as we all thought that I would get good natural enhancement from the hormones. Even so, these "C" cups felt like a pair of lighthouses sticking out from me. They were tender but firm, the nipples pointed upwards and they were just enough to make them look natural. I'd never need a bra again, although I felt that a bra made them look more realistic. The nipples were stretched and sensitive. One of them that used to be slightly inverted was now raised to match the other. I was constantly erect as all my clothes caught and stretched over my breasts, rubbing them ecstatically. Gerald came down after a couple of weeks for a short stay and we went touring around the peninsula. I was still quite sore and there was some faint discoloration around my face and boobs of which I was self-conscious. We kissed and cuddled but everywhere else was off limits. He was still cut up about touching me and I was sorry that he did not want me to hold him in my hand or mouth. There were times when we did not know how to react to each other. I yearned for his touch and the feel of him but I knew I had to be patient. Then he asked me to come to London for a few days to accompany him to a corporate event at the ballet. I had no trouble accepting and travelled up to town the next week, with a suitcase full of outfits for my stay. I knew, immediately, that Gerald had made a decision about us as he was really nervous. We went to the ballet and then back to his flat. As soon as I went through the door I knew that, tonight, he was going to overcome his fear of sleeping with me and I was going to give him the night of his life. We kissed in the hall, the living room and the kitchen, inching towards the bedroom. I knew this was a big step for him and I did not want him to get scared so I suggested he get undressed and into bed while I went to the bathroom. I took my clothes off, washed my face and genitals and flushed myself out. I felt my backside, it was already hungry to devour Gerald. I put my knickers back on and went into the bedroom. There was a light in the hall that threw a seductive light onto the bed. I put both hands across my boobs and cupped one in each hand as I approached Gerald. I slid under the covers while covering myself up and pressed my cold body against his warm flesh. As we lay under the covers I felt Gerald's hands ranging over my tense body. We were both being very mature about this moment but we also knew that neither could predict our reactions to the other. I loved the touch of his fingers around my breasts, and on the tops of my thighs. His breathing on my neck made me quiver with excitement. Gerald put me on my back and slid his fingers under the waistband of my knickers. He was ready for me to reveal myself to him and so I lifted my bottom off the mattress and let him pull them off. As he did so I felt my penis spring out from between my legs, semi-hard. I had not been aroused for some time and it felt strange. I did not like this feeling and I put my hand over my groin to disguise it. When the knickers were over my knees I wriggled to kick them off. Gerald then ran his fingers up my thighs and brushed my hand away and held my little erection. I let out a little gasp as his hand squeezed me and continued up and closed over my left breast. I pressed his hand even more firmly onto my boob and lifted my head to meet his lips in a kiss. He pressed all his weight onto me and I felt his hardness through his boxer shorts grind into my groin. He looked quizzically at me: "Are you OK?" he asked. "Fine," I answered, "you?" "Oh, yes" he answered enthusiastically. We kissed and fondled for several minutes and then I felt Gerald's hand move tentatively down between my legs. His stroked me but I didn't want or need him to do this so I pulled his hand away. "I don't mind", he said. "It's OK," I replied, "I would rather you didn't." He gave me a huge bear hug and I felt our groins touch and rub against each other. Then Gerald guided my hand onto his shorts and I felt a penis about twice the size of mine and hard as a rock. I could not believe that being with me had made his cock stiffen like that. I knew I had to satisfy him now. I gently worked him out through the fly and started stroking his cock, and gently stimulating it. A little drop fell off the end and made his head slithery. Immediately I recalled the ecstasy that night at the party and I wanted to taste him again so I made him roll onto his back and I worked my way down his chest and stomach kissing him and scratching him lightly with my fingertips. Then I pulled off his boxer shorts to reveal his lovely penis lying on his stomach. I took it in my hand and guided the purple head into my mouth. It filled me completely as I sucked slowly and gently on it, working my teeth and tongue all over it. I tried to cram it all into my mouth and reached with my lips down the shaft as far as the base. I felt his head in my throat and he squirmed in recalled delight as I pressed down on him. After a few minutes Gerald pulled me off him and lay me on my back. He concentrated on kissing and fondling my nipples, which were sending shockwaves through my body. He moved down to my genitals. I felt his lips brush the head of my penis and, instinctively, my hand shot down to cover myself. He licked my thighs, my legs and sucked my toes. Then he flipped me onto my front and I felt his tongue delicately probe my ring as he tried to press into the bud. I'd never felt anything so delicious in my life. He cupped my balls in his hand and rolled them in his fingers caressing them. I was flaccid and I knew it would stay that way now. "I want to be inside you!" Gerald hissed into my ear. So I got up and pushed him off me and leant into my handbag next to the bed. I grabbed a tube of jelly and squeezed a little onto my fingers and rubbed them into my hole, which was already yielding. Then I spread some up and down Gerald's shaft. I had a funny feeling in my tummy as I wondered how I was going to fit all that in my poor little bottom without splitting. I turned onto all fours and presented my ass for him. The wardrobe mirror was in front of me and I could see the studied look on Gerald's face as he examined my rear. He took hold of my buttocks and guided himself to the hole. He left the head there and so I pushed backwards little by little until he started to enter me and I felt a sudden and searing pain in my ring. I stopped for a second to let my bud dilate and then pressed back into him. Suddenly, the length of his manhood eased into me easily and I felt his testicles against the backs of my legs. He rocked in and out gently and I could see in the mirror that he was looking down at me admiringly. It was amazing to feel my guy's large member loving my virgin ass. I wanted to feel him come inside me. Then I could tell that his stroke was becoming more urgent and forceful and I was being butted with his thighs as he pushed into me. His face became determined and his eyes screwed up. As he built up it felt as if his penis was growing inside me and I felt it erupting, shuddering, gushing and then twitching. I had never felt so sexy and fulfilled. He held himself there for a few moments and then withdrew slowly. The feeling as his penis slipped out of me was heavenly. I pushed him back onto the bed and held him tightly in a cuddle of unbridled joy. We lay in each other's arms for ages, feeling the moment that belonged to us. I fell asleep holding Gerald tightly. The next morning I awoke to find Gerald up and about. He was singing loudly in the bathroom. I got up and staggered over to the door. "Hi, sexy," I said as my eyes winced in the strong light. "Well, hello!" I said as my eyes winced in the strong light. "Well, hello!" Gerald replied. "How are you?" "Just fine," I answered. I caught myself in the mirror, I looked a fright, all my make-up had gone, my hair was messy even by its own standards and I had a bite on my neck. My boobs looked red and swollen and, between my legs, lay a little shrivelled reminder of who I used to be. I crossed my legs and went to tuck everything away. Gerald took my hands and, without looking down said, "Leave it alone - I love you as you are, unwanted bits and all!" "You are so good to me," I answered and pecked him on the cheek. But he was right, it was an unwanted bit and I knew it had to go. After another day, I returned to the coast to look after the house. Waiting for me was a sweet letter from my parents. It was full of incomprehension reading between the lines, but it was also full of outward love and support. Theirs must have been a more difficult letter to compose. When I went back to see the consultant for my 5-week check- up after the plastic surgery I decided to ask a special favour of the surgeon. I was now so pleased with my look and the way I felt, that I knew that I wanted to have full gender reassignment surgery. I was not going to be allowed to have full surgery until I had completed a real-life test of a year living full-time as a woman. In the meantime, I had to live with a hormone system in chaos. The oestrogen was doing a fantastic job but it was fighting a battle against my own testosterone. I was unhappy about still getting erections and, whilst Gerald never said anything, I was convinced that it bothered him too. So I asked the surgeon to remove my testicles. He said he needed enough skin from my scrotum to create labia if I had full reassignment surgery and it would shrink if the testicles were not there. Eventually, he agreed to perform an orchidectomy and replace them with synthetic prosthetics. It seemed like a reasonable compromise. So, a week later, I went into hospital and had two of the remaining vestiges of my masculinity whipped off. I was a little sore from the operation and felt no difference for a day or two. Then my testosterone levels fell sharply and all the conflicting male feelings vanished. I was now incapable of getting an erection and my penis shrank a little. It was now only a conduit for urine. The new testicles were smaller and easier to tuck up into my pelvis and so my knickers felt more comfortable. Gerald was coming down to the coast more and more and we were enjoying the most fabulous love life. Autumn was coming and the evenings were shortening. It seemed like bedtime all the time. I kept him satisfied and he showed great consideration for my unhappy predicament. Then an offer was put on the house and it was time to move on. I'd decided that I was now Jennifer and no-one was going to be able to persuade me back to my old life. Gerald had been amazingly supportive at a time when he had so much else on. The kids were coming over for a weekend and I knew he needed a hand with them. I traded off with him that I would entertain the kids if he came to meet my parents and help me explain things. This piece is too short to examine all the trauma that befell us but suffice it to say that I still see my folks and he still sees the kids. So, it wasn't easy but we made it. When I got back to London in October I needed to decide what I was going to do. I presumed that my old job was now impossible and so I thought about going back to college. Things were going very well with Gerald but I didn't want to impose upon him anymore. He had helped me hugely but I was conscious of needing to stand on my own two feet. Then he astounded me one night in a restaurant close to his flat. We were having a lovely supper and he suddenly stopped and put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a ring. "For you," he said. "Will you marry me?" "Of course," I replied, "what took you so long?" "Once bitten and all that!" "Any catches?" I asked. "None, but Spring would be nice!" he knew I had scheduled to have my gender reassignment operation in April and that I would be out of action for 6 weeks. "How does the end of May sound?" I asked. "Ideal," he said. I was the happiest lady in town that night and gave myself to Gerald like never before. Over the winter we planned the wedding and found a much more modest cottage to live in on the coast. The operation went as well as it can. I suffered the usual complications and was distraught for a while when I could not control my new bladder function. I spent hours dilating my new sex organ and praying I would be able to take all of Gerald once my poor excuse for a penis had been stretched into its new role. I had little to fear. Gerald was careful not to hurt me as we tried out my new body. We had hoped to wait until our wedding night, but the first day I had no bleeding was too much to resist and we tore into each other as if this would be our last chance. He entered me in the missionary position and forced himself up my tight passage. It clasped him gratefully and he worked me up and down until I felt his climax infuse through his body and into mine. This was bliss. I clamped my legs around him and refused to let him go. When I became sore, I presented my bottom to him and let him use me for his pleasure. My vagina worked so well that he said he could not tell any difference between me and his old girlfriends, except with me it was better! The hormones had now been working away for about a year. My breasts were now dangling sweetly and my hips had plumped out. My weight was stable and my body hair had disappeared. My transformation was complete. Our "wedding" day was incredible. We decided to have a Christian service of blessing of our union similar to the service used after a civil marriage. The vicar was a bit sceptical at first but he soon changed his mind when he saw the funds for the organ restoration soar with our contribution. We loved the irony of paying to preserve one organ having paid to have another one removed. I chose an ivory dress with over-jacket. Gerald's kids were page and bridesmaid. The pictures are amazing and I often pull them out in the evening to remind myself of my luck. Our friends and family were all there. The group was divided: those who knew my past and who were sworn to silence and those who had no idea. That continues to be a major difficulty as we have to trust people's good sense and discretion. I can't believe what a difference being married has made to us. We are still madly in love and still find it difficult to keep our hands off each other. My past should now be an irrelevant memory. However, I am still plagued by stupid bureaucracy that makes me own up to my history to get a passport, a visa, or that prevents us getting married. Still, when I consider the alternatives I cannot complain. Having Gerald's kids around has been brilliant. They think of me as their step-mum and we get to see them over their school holidays so there is always plenty of quality time to spend with them. Gerald is working far less hard and so we can also spend loads of time together, down in Cornwall keeping our wonderful romance alive. We are now looking into the possibility of adopting our own baby in the very near future and living happily as a family. Is there a moral to this story? I suppose my tale should be a lesson to us all that we have only one life and one chance to pursue our true happiness. I have been blessed with the most amazing good fortune and I now see it as my role to help the lot of others, not as lucky as myself. My only wish is that I had discovered Jennifer earlier and let her take the lead in my life. You can find me on the net offering advice to all similar ladies out there but, for reasons of privacy, I have changed the names of the participants in this story for the protection of their privacy.